


hold on to this lullaby (even when the music's gone)

by gingergenower



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Feels, Gen, Pregnancy, but until then she has jester, gentle angst, marion deserves a happily ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23344186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: This child- already so dear and kind in Marion’s mind, whoever they may grow up to be- reminds her of so many tiny delights she thought she had forgotten. For the first time in months, she can taste sweetness again. She feels the warmth of sunshine on her skin, and the flowers are meant to be coming to life with spring soon- it's just the other side of too cold to open the window and breathe fresh air in.In a few weeks, everything will have changed.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre & Marion Lavorre | Ruby of the Sea, The Gentleman/Marion Lavorre | Ruby of the Sea
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	hold on to this lullaby (even when the music's gone)

**Author's Note:**

> title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzhAS_GnJIc)

Sat in the window seat of her bedroom, head tilted back against the bookshelf as she watches the bustling streets below, Marion rubs her protruding stomach through the material of her nightgown. Her satin robe hasn’t met in the middle for a couple of months and she leaves it open, the belt hanging unused from the loops holding it; comfort is more important than presentation.

The labour of pregnancy aches, and she hasn’t the room in her lungs for singing- even climbing the steps in the chateau takes time and more effort than she could have believed- so she hums, looking to the bump under her palm for distraction.

It doesn’t take long for her belly to stir, an errant foot sticking out. Her skin stretches and distorts to accommodate the gesture, and she follows it with a finger until it disappears, more movement inside her. She laughs breathlessly, trying to ease the pressure on her spine as the baby wriggles around.

This child- already so dear and kind in Marion’s mind, whoever they may grow up to be- reminds her of so many tiny delights she thought she had forgotten. For the first time in months, she can taste sweetness again. She feels the warmth of sunshine on her skin, and the flowers are meant to be coming to life with spring soon- it's just the other side of too cold to open the window and breathe fresh air in.

In a few weeks, everything will have changed.

“Good afternoon, my love,” she says softly, smiling when a hand reaches out where the foot had been, insistent until she taps her fingertips to it like a tiny high five. 

Apparently satisfied, the hand disappears and her stomach settles somewhat. Marion tries to focus on taking in air, already experienced in the waves of dizziness the energy of this little one can bring on, and once it  passes she adjusts herself, finding another position to relax into. She’s too big to bend down and shifting is ungainly, but she sits upright and eases the pain eventually. 

She sighs with relief, closing her eyes for a moment. “Not long now.”

Peaceful in the quiet, hands folded over her stomach, she returns to watching the activity below. There are figures and characters she recognises, very often following the same route every day, but she doesn’t see the dark hair or the skin like the sea she hopes for. 

The rap of knuckles on the door surprises her, and the serving girl opens the door slowly. “Marion?”

“Come in, please,” she says, wiping her wet eyes with the corner of her sleeve and beckoning her in. 

The girl puts the small basket, filled with still-warm pastries and cupcakes and what must be the first fresh berries of the season, on the seat in front of Marion. “Can I get you anything else?”

Marion only smiles. “I may need help standing later, but for now- no, I am well.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Thank you so much, Lavinia.”

The girl hesitates, nods, and then retreats. Once the door is shut, Marion selects a croissant and tears a piece off, chewing slowly. 

She knows it’s been too long. Whatever may have happened or he might have decided, that fear in his eyes was more powerful than his promises, and he won’t be returning. He might never even know what he left behind, but she cannot bring herself to hate him for it. 

Tears spilling down her cheeks, Marion’s brought back by the baby nudging her, and she hums the end of the lullaby, soft and slow. There is nothing left for her to do but love the life they created.

**Author's Note:**

> my stupid ass got fired the other day because of coronavirus so I decided to counter that bullshit by creating something melancholy and aching.


End file.
